II. Pigman In a Poke

Trumpigula’s family lived higher on the hog than anyone’s. Fred accrued his wealth using his grabber. He was so good with it; shot it out faster than anyone could see; stealing without fear of being caught. He loved pigging out as much as possible—hogging it all—so used his grabber to grab as much as possible.

The grabber ran in Fred’s family. His father’s father times a bunch more fathers all had sons born with one. Napoolean, the pigman founder of animan society, was the first. He, too, used his grabber for selfish ends. Fred was proud of his lineage.

Fred learned to mesmerize peeple with his grabber. If anyone saw what he was up to, he could hypnotize them to forget. He grew bored killing peeple. Instead, he kept faithful minions by his side while using it in front of them, without them realizing and remembering he even had a grabber. The enchanted forgot it existed after being mesmerized, but it was forever imprinted on their psyche’s deepest desires. Like a magnet, it kept pulling the enchanted back to the source of their pleasure.

Fred was the boss hogman, and no one dreamed of challenging him. Trumpigula followed in his daddy’s footsteps, making Fred very proud to have him by his side. Fred showed him the ropes—illegal loans, tax evasion, all the basics—and hoped Trumpigula would take off from where Fred eventually would land.

A bit after Trumpigula’s twenty-first birthday, he sat blabbing at his daddy in Fred’s office. Fred could hardly get a word in, so decided to show his son the grabber’s greatest secret—it’s ability to mesmerize.

Fred’s grabber emerged and began the Mesmerization Dance. He commanded, “Shut up for once, son.” Trumpigula shut up. He was hypnotized and unable to speak.

“It’s time you learn the greatest thing your grabber can do. I know I’ve told you being a killer is crucial if you want to be the boss hogman. If you’re not killing, you’re going to be killed.”

Simultaneously, Trumpigula copied, “If you’re not killing, you’re going to be killed” out of sheer memorization, regardless of the mesmerization he was under.

Fred smiled and continued, “There’s a way to command people using your grabber. They can see it, but you won’t need to kill them.”

“Hmm. Maybe so, Daddy-o,” Trumpigula groggily replied, “but I like the killing. It makes me feel … powerful, like I can do ANYTHING.”

“Yes, I know. But if you kill them, you’re missing out on keeping minions around. Ever wonder why Conner’s been our servant so long?” Fred asked.

“Conner? Who’s that?” Trumpigula asked back, his inattentiveness overriding his trance.

Fred sighed, pointed and answered, “That servant over there. He’s been working here since you were a little boy.”

Trumpigula shrugged, didn’t look at Conner and yawned in boredom. “I guess. They all look the same to me. I’ve killed so many sheepmen servants, I’ve lost count.”

“That’s my point. Conner, come here,” Fred commanded.

Conner walked towards Fred and stopped four feet away. Fred’s grabber emerged and stretched up in front of Conner, doing the MD. Trumpigula’s eyes widened in arousal.

“How are you doing THAT!?” asked Trumpigula.

“Conner, walk to my son,” Fred ordered. Conner walked towards Trumpigula. “Kiss him. On the lips,” said Fred, smiling. Conner gave Trumpigula a big, wet kiss. He pushed the sheepman away.

“Get away, disgusting servant!” Trumpigula shouted. He spit and wiped his lips clean. Conner stood still, giving a kissy face.

“Conner, clean my office,” Fred commanded. Conner continued cleaning.

“So, he can see your grabber without it falling off, AND he’ll do anything you tell him?” Trumpigula asked in astonishment.

“Amazing, huh? If you master the Mesmerization Dance, there’s nothing you can’t do. Just command them to forget they saw your grabber, and it won’t fall off. Plus, you won’t have to kill, at least not as much,” Fred assured him.

“I’m not worried about that, but commanding peeple to do my bidding? THAT sounds terrific!” Trumpigula oinked loudly.

“Yes, it’s an awesome skill. We’re the richest animen around by a long snot because of that. Anything you want, you get once you learn to hypnotize peeple with your grabber,” Fred explained.

“So, how do I get it to do the, the Miss Mary Nation dance?” he asked.

“The Mesmerization Dance. I call it mister MD. First, I get Mr. Grabber to do the wiggle, like this.” Fred’s grabber perked up and wiggled. Trumpigula’s grabber copied the moves.

“Then, I move Mr.’s fingers, like this.” Mr. Grabber’s fingers moved rhythmically. Grabby copied.

“The hardest part is the most important. You need to will your grabber to flash. Imagine there are lights on it. You need to turn them on,” Fred instructed.

“Turn them on!? Easy! … How do I … do that?” he complained, getting flustered.

“You need to find the switch in your mind. Once you turn it on, it’ll start flashing,” Fred said. “It’s like a force. Use the force, son.”

Trumpigula struggled to turn his grabber’s lights on, grunting in frustration. “Should this hurt? It’s painful!”

“No. THAT’S strange,” Fred answered. He noticed Conner watching Grabby. “You better turn it on. He sees your grabber. I don’t want you to kill him,” Fred chortled.

“I’m trying!” he shouted. “This is really hard! It hurts! Snot!”

Trumpigula sweated. Conner looked concerned. Fred just kept smiling.

“Hypnotize him to forget! I’m not gonna let Grabby fall off, so if you don’t want me to kill him,” Trumpigula warned. His grabber flashed brightly in a swirl of different colors, like a cuddlefishman.

“That’s it! You turned it on! Keep it up! Be the master grabber!” Fred squealed.

Grabby flashed even brighter. Conner’s eyes glazed over. Fred slapped Trumpigula on the back.

“You’ve got it! Make your command!” Fred shouted dramatically.

“Conner! Forget what you’re seeing! Leave the room!” Trumpigula commanded menacingly. Conner walked out of the room.

“Nice. To help loosen peeple up, it sprays a mist, like this,” explained Fred as his Mr. G misted a pheromone. Trumpigula struggled, but soon the grabber sprayed a little out. Then it squirted a lot.

“That’s it, huh? Piece of pie! You’re right, that trick’s terrific! I can get peeple to do ANYTHING with that?” Trumpigula asked, astounded.

“Yes. Anything. You deserve EVERYTHING, Trumpigula,” Fred answered emotionally. “Just BE CAREFUL.”

“That’s a fact, Daddy! I can’t wait to prowl around knowing this! I wish I knew sooner,” complained Trumpigula, sadly.

“I wanted you to be a killer first. You’ve mastered that. I’m sure you’ll master the MD,” Fred explained.

“Of course. Nothing can stop me now,” Trumpigula declared, smiling. He got a concerned look on his face. “Say, you’ve never mesmerized ME with Mr. Grabber, right, besides now? You haven’t been making me dooo things.”

“Son, I’ll tell you the truth. Yes,” Fred admitted. He hypnotized Trumpigula to forget he said that. “Go make me a sandwich. The best you’ve ever made me.”

“Yes sir, master Daddy. If I mop the bathroom floor, may I please play with Conner afterward?” Trumpigula requested, completely hypnotized.

“Of course, as always. You and Conner have been good friends since you were little boys. One of the reasons he’s still around, and you’re unable to kill him. After you work, you may play with each other.”

“Yay! Thank you, Daddy. I love you!” exclaimed Trumpigula. He gave his daddy a kiss on the cheek and skipped to the kitchen.

III. Trumpigula Eats Everything